~visions on a cold southern night~

I spent a somewhat obscene amount of time yesterday rigging up something to help protect my two Meyer's lemon trees and the satsuma from tonight's close-to 'record-breaking' cold (I love listening to the local weather guys - so far I've heard 'bone-chilling' and 'brutal' cold - my brother in Vermont just rolls his eyes when he hears me whine about a cold day).  I settled on pounding four metal posts into the ground, wrapping thick plastic around the posts - and then filling in around the plant with leaves.  Then, last night, I put a blanket over the entire mound, and anchored the blanket with several pine logs.  The largest of these trees is only about 3', which made this 'approach' possible -- at least it will keep the wind off of the trees, and provide a bit of insulation.  It was just below freezing last night (with some pretty strong winds) and tonight is expected to be 10 or more degrees colder.  I guess all I can do now is cross my fingers (and toes) that I don't lose too much.  This zone - 8b - is just too tempting, too close to zone 9 in mild seasons - to not try and sneak in a few plants that might truly suffer on a cold night like this one.

Thursday morning update:  The temperature this morning, outside on my deck, is 24.1 degrees F.  The high today is supposed to be in the low 40s (I know, balmy for many of you) -- and tonight will again be in the low 20s.  (The wind chill is quite a bit lower, but for those living in truly cold climes, I'll just not go there.  But remember: I did my time in Michigan.  I know of wind...and chill).

~~~~~

Today I wore socks.  I don't like to wear socks.

~~~~~

So today - as the wind blew, whistling through the windows of the conference room we were sitting in, everyone presented their 'vision' for 2008.  They are always interesting to hear, and provide me with a nice perspective regarding the scientific goals of the individuals that roam the lab.  Their vision's vary:  the eclair-making postdoc presented his first vision statement, beginning with an eloquent preamble stating how he felt that the laboratory was on the cusp of interesting discoveries - then the lab's senior graduate student, recalling an extremely ambitious vision statement from two years ago, presented an extremely restrained view of his upcoming year, and outlined some very realistic goals (until his last two, which were, of course, to understand and, well, discover, just about everything that he possibly could related to his scientific question).  Another student focused primarily on manuscript goals, while another focused on getting past her oral qualifiers (and aspects of her research that were coming to light as a result of the necessary preparations).  Finally, the lab's poet laureate presented a nice vision - aspects of which were related to learning (she said something like '...become a phylogenetic tree-making maven') and to products (such as a manuscript).  I'll now post their written visions - some printed out, some scribbled down on pieces of paper - on a wall in the laboratory, and throughout the year we'll revisit them - perhaps to laugh at ourselves, perhaps to laugh at one another, and perhaps to even feel a sense of real accomplishment for a moment (or two).

So what was my vision for 2008?  Well, I felt badly because the hour just prior to lab meeting, when I was finally sitting down to write my own vision statement - I had an impromptu meeting with the Director of the program that I participate in (a meeting that ended up being important) - and by the time he left my office, I only had a few minutes left and by that time my vision was all tangled and twisted and vague.  So I mentioned a few things to the lab:  the usual (submitting grants and writing manuscripts), the obvious (getting coralmicrobes.org off the ground), and the expected (to get my student successfully through her oral qualifiers/proposal defense).  But this is simply a list of...stuff...and tonight, a cold southern night, with a wonderful fire going and my lemon trees wrapped up for a cold winter night, I finally can sit and think about what my (scientific) vision is for the new year.  I tend to not do resolutions often, or I have less and less over the last few years - and while personally this year I just want to make it through, there are visions that I have for the lab, exciting ones, that I will dare to write on a piece of paper and post on the lab wall.  Or, as Richard Garcia writes in the last line of his poem (below):  I'll have to make something up.

~~~~~

(First of all, understand that this vision statement is entirely dependent on the hard work and creativity of the members of my laboratory.  Without them, there is no lab, and when I say that I want to learn, it means that I want to learn with and through them.)

• I want us to think about chemical ecology, function - and their relationship to microbial community diversity.  In corals, this will mean linking an increased understanding of the metabonome (or metabolome) of the microbial community with disease progression, community structure and community function data.  I'd like to better understand the why of microorganisms associated with corals, which of course is first reliant on the who -- so who is present, how this 'who' changes as disease progresses, and how this relates to changes in both the functional potential (what functional genes are present?) and expression of this potential (which of these functional genes is actually being expressed?).  Couple the who and the why with what -- what proteins are present (via proteomics), resulting in what metabolites (via metabolomics) - all done at the community level.  So - a move towards less (and less) emphasis on the activity of a specific microorganism, and more (and more) emphasis on the power of a microbial community. (Granted, certain key microorganisms will provide excellent proof-of-concept opportunities...).  We have all of the pieces together to start focusing on meta-approaches.
• To figure out what the hell is up with bacterial membrane vesicles.  With respect to the Burkholderia sp. that we are studying, membrane vesicles are abundant, their production is affected by key environmental parameters (e.g., pH) and, well, something interesting is going on and we need to find out just what that is.  Proteomics will help.  Better (and more) microscopy will help.  Mutants of Burkholderia sp. will help.  All of these are either 'in progress' or about to be. 
• To develop a research emphasis focused on the ocean as a pathogen reservoir.  Where are potentially problematic human pathogens in the ocean?  Do they contain the necessary genetic material to be virulent?  Are they similar, or dissimilar to human pathogenic strains?  Are key marine pathogens (some Vibrio sp. for example) that infect only marine organisms - how do their genomes/proteomes relate to human (and other terrestrial) pathogens?  Are marine organisms, such as the bottlenose dolphin, potential models for human disease?  Can human health and ocean health be directly linked?
• To have the lab start writing their own poetry (even a haiku on ocassion would be nice).
• To see members of my laboratory prosper.   

~~~~~

So after we shared our visions, and before a student presented the 4th aim of her dissertation proposal, Katherine presented one of Richard's poems - a poem with a unique vision of it's own, a vision requiring a space helmet, and not just any space helmet, but one with a red and white inflatable rim.  (I couldn't help but think that for the year ahead of me, that perhaps I, too, need to wear such a helmet - just in case - since I'm pretty sure that I'm not at all ready for what the new year has to bring). 

Why I Left the Church by Richard Garcia (with permission from the Author)

Maybe it was
because the only time
I hit a baseball
it smashed the neon cross
on the church across
the street. Even
twenty-five years later
when I saw Father Harris
I would wonder
if he knew it was me.
Maybe it was the demon-stoked
rotisseries of purgatory
where we would roast
hundreds of years
for the smallest of sins.
Or was it the day
I wore my space helmet
to catechism? Clear plastic
with a red and white
inflatable rim.
Sister Mary Bernadette
pointed toward the door
and said, "Out! Come back
when you're ready."
I rose from my chair
and kept rising
toward the ceiling
while the children
screamed and Sister
kept crossing herself.
The last she saw of me
was my shoes disappearing
through cracked plaster.
I rose into the sky and beyond.
It is a good thing
I am wearing my helmet,
I thought as I floated
and turned in the blackness
and brightness of outer space,
my body cold on one side and hot
on the other. It would
have been very quiet
if my blood had not been
rumbling in my ears so loud.
I remember thinking,
Maybe I will come back
when I'm ready.
But I won't tell
the other children
what it was like.
I'll have to make something up.

Copyright © Richard Garcia

Comments

[Kim]

I was actually feeling sorry for you until I read this sentence: "Today I wore socks."

I despise wearing socks, and I despise wearing shoes. And the fact that you had to point out that today, you wore socks, leads me to believe that you might not have worn socks yesterday. Or the day before. Or last week.

I have had to wear socks at least since the end of October.
*sigh*

Seriously, though, I hope your trees come through okay. Maybe I should bring some martini fixin's over and we should have a bonfire to warm the area? (Were I close enough, I just might! lol.)

[Carol]

I wore two pair of socks today and I'll wear two pair tomorrow. It's cold up here. Single digits this morning. Right now, 13 feels like -4. Too cold!

I hope your lemons are okay!

[Annie in Austin]

Your part of South Carolina sounds colder than Austin, but my Meyer's Lemon is draped in fabric and my feet have socks, too. I hope my lemon makes it. We planted it up against a SW facing housewall and we've stayed above 26°F so far.

You wrote such wonderful posts while I was gone, Pam - I've enjoyed catching up and liked Richard Garcia's poem and space helmet imagery very much. I'm feeling rather 'Come back when you're ready' myself these days and wish I'd remembered to put on my space helmet.

Dani the wild dog is a beauty and I hope the goals for your laboratory team are at least approached, if not totally conquered.

Once you make the move from the cottage in the woods to the Airstream it may remind you of a space ship as the human and non-human astronauts settle in so establishing a fresh-air cantina and firepit next to the space ship could be a logical move. You never know when Han Solo might show up.

Annie at the Transplantable Rose

[Scott R]

Ta! Have the local news folks done any of those specials on creating a survival kit for the car: space blanket, candles, kitty litter, pemmican, walrus spear, etc. ?

I miss those. sniff.

[Christopher C NC]

In a garden gone bad this freezing cold I have decided is a blessing. It has been five years I hear since the last hard freeze and some weeds have run amuck. It was 26 degrees this morning in North Florida. I wish it would get that low again. Perhaps it will before the winter is done. I can only chop so much before I return to more cold which seems appropriate in a naked forest. Here in the green the cold seems out of place and I neglected to bring any long underwear.

I was promised by some that I would be rocketed into the fourth dimension. Some days I think I have been and I don't want to come back. It's a vision thing.

[Kim]

So this morning I awoke to tales of citrus farmers spraying/icing down their fruit trees to protect them from this freeze. Did you have to resort to such tactics?

[Pam]

Kim: Yep, no socks before this week (sorry). Now, as for the martini's and a bonfire - count me in. When I used to live along the gulf coast of Florida, a friend had a neighbor with an incredible satsuma and on those unusually cold nights, we would gather for what was, more or less, a satsuma-warming party. Maybe, if my satsuma gets large enough - it would warrant such a gathering! I'll put you down on the 'invite' list (not that a satsuma-warming party is something that requires any kind of list!

Oh - yes, you heard right about the citrus. I didn't 'wet' my plants, but I did wet the blankets on them, and the top layer or so of leaves. If they freeze (which they did, the blankets were stiff) - then that should help provide some additional insulation. I haven't the heart to wet the leaves - or to see the ice covering them!

Carol: Thanks, and I hope they are okay too. I'm a bit worried. Long periods of time in the low to mid-20s simply isn't good.

Thank you Annie - and unfortunately, my two lemon trees are sitting in the middle of the back yard, without a bit of protection (other than what I built for them). Hopefully they'll be okay. And yes - we all need one of those helmets - just in case, don't you think?

Scott: Pemmican! How hilarious. I'm sure that when you lived down here, you had cases of the stuff in your car (along with one of those space blankets). Didn't I see you one night, just down the road, with walrus spear in hand? I'm pretty sure that I did (except that I was probably driving too fast, so I couldn't distinguish whether it was a walrus spear or a golf club).

Christopher: The 4th dimension? Now that would definitely require a helmet with a snazzy rim around it. As for the cold - yeah, it always helps us out too. When I have my act together (which I don't right now) - I try to remove the layer of straw and leaves from my vegetable beds, because the freeze helps to kill...stuff. Unwanted stuff (and most likely some desirable stuff as well). But the cold is strange here - walking around, hearing that crunch of the soil (that comes when the surface soil gets frosted) and seeing the curled and frozen leaves of some plants - well, like I said, it's just strange.

[Kim]

I don't know if I could've wet the leaves, either, Pam. I kept shuddering inside, seeing those pictures on the news sites of perfect little orange citrus fruits (and the leaves above them) encased in ice!

A satsuma-warming party works for me. *grin*

[Pam]

Kim, my citrus came through everything really well. I was pleased - and felt optimistic that this new 'piling up leaves' approach was a good one (just putting blankets on them always mashes the branches - now with this, the leaves help to support the branches in their natural location and the metal posts also help to support the blanket - so they just look better even if they do make it). I think a satsuma-warming party is about as good an idea for a party as anything - but then hot water will look like a party to me right now!